Texas Temptation

by Kathryn Brocato

  “What do you want?”

  “Susan, we just came to talk.”

  She sniffed. “Well, I don’t want to talk to you. So go back to that fancy office and stay away from me.” She moved to close the door.

  “Susan, this isn’t what Jack wanted.”

  The hinges squeaked as she jerked back. “What would you know about what Jack wanted?”

  Carlos peered over his shoulder. An older gentleman in the next yard and a petite grandma across the street eyed them. Nosy neighbors. “Could we do this out of the public eye?”

  Susan’s hostile attention turned to Luc. “Who is this?”

  “This is Luc Santorini. He’s here about the — ”

  “Rodeo Sweethearts case.” Susan swore. “I shoulda figured they’d bring you back after you all botched it the first time around.”

  More onlookers gathered. Carlos’s neck muscles tensed. “This is an ongoing investigation, Susan. I’d rather not be out here discussing it.”

  “Fine.” She pushed open the screen door and backed away.

  They entered quickly, and Carlos shut the world outside. Susan strode down a narrow hall to the first room. They trailed her into the living room. The interior of the house matched the outside; immaculate and cheery. Carlos thought his head would explode from the overkill of yellow and blue.

  Susan perched on the edge of a plush armchair. Carlos took an equally stuffed chair across from her, while Luc remained on his feet.

  “I knew this would happen. As soon as they reported the first killing.” Flames flickered in her brown eyes. “Didn’t think it’d take you this long to show up here.”

  “Why were you waiting on us?”

  She crossed her arms. “That stupid case killed him. He wouldn’t let it go.” She mumbled something.

  “What?” Carlos asked.

  “Nothing. Jack brought copies of the case files home. Did you know that?”

  He winced. “And why didn’t you say something to me after he died?” He could hear the edge of anger in his voice.

  Susan titled her chin up and glared at him. “It was none of your business.”

  He slammed his fist into the armrest. “That case had never been closed and you had no right to keep the files.”

  “I had every right!” She bolted to her feet cursing. “It tore my family apart. That maniac murdered Brad’s fiancé and turned Jack into a paranoid loser. They constantly fought. Bet you didn’t know that, Carlos. Jack and his dirty little secrets. Made Brad run off. I haven’t seen him since. He won’t call, he won’t e-mail me. Then Jack dies. And I’m left with nothing.”

  Red-faced, Susan crossed her arms. “I’ve spent the last five years of my life in turmoil. And where were you, Carlos? Off enjoying your rise in the ranks while my husband gave himself a heart attack and my boy disappeared?”

  “Jack never let on. Not once.”

  She snorted. “How stupid could you be? You didn’t care one whit about him.” She marched to the living room doorway. “Get out of my house. Now.”

  Luc skirted around the irate woman and slipped out the front door ahead of Carlos. Once they were outside, she slammed the door, the click of the lock resounded behind them.

  “Interesting,” Luc said as they headed back to the car.

  “To say the least.” Carlos sighed as he unlocked the car. “What was Jack thinking?”

  “I don’t think he was.” Luc climbed in.

  Settled in his seat, Carlos stared out the windshield. “She’s hiding something, Luc. Something big.”

  “We tear her life apart. And her son’s.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Cody stroked the buckskin mare’s neck with a soft bristled brush and hummed an Alan Jackson song. Stirred hairs tickled her nose. She sneezed and rubbed it against her shoulder. The mare curved her head around, nickering low in her throat.

  “Here you go, Sheba.” Cody held out a few cubes of apple/carrot treats.

  Soft muzzle pressed against her palm, Sheba lipped up the cubes and munched away. Cody wiped saliva on her pant leg, then moved further down the horse’s body.

  “Trying to give it a sugar high?”

  Her stomach did its funny twist at Remy’s husky voice. She looked over her shoulder and smiled. “See you were steered in the right direction.”

  He examined the two horses, then directed those dark eyes on her. “I have a bad feeling about this.”

  Chucking the brush into a nearby bucket, Cody stepped up to the arena fence. She noticed his boots and jeans. Good, he came prepared to ride. “If you want to date this cowgirl, you gotta learn her ways.”

  One eyebrow lifted. “Is that so?”

  “We won’t leave the riding arena. And Sheba is the perfect beginner’s horse.”

  He chuckled and eased up to the fence, inches from her. “Our first official date is a riding lesson.”

  “And dinner. You did bring it?”

  “Oui, cher.” He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “So, I’m suckered onto the back of a horse by the prospect of dinner and time alone with you?”

  Shivers traveled from her neck to her toes. Her heart rattled against her ribs like a bird in a cage. She drew in a shuddering breath and took a step back. “Get in here, Cajun. I’m gonna teach you how to saddle a horse.”

  The gate creaked open and Remy slipped into the ring. Warily, he approached Sheba.

  “She’s no different than Graham. Hold out your hand for her to sniff it.”

  He shot her a sidelong glance. “I wasn’t getting on Graham.” He held out his hand, palm up. “How is she doing?”

  “Better.”

  Sheba nuzzled him and Remy drifted closer to her. After a moment of staring at each other, Remy began to speak to the mare in a low voice.

  A warm sensation blossomed in Cody’s chest. If he could do this for her, what more was he capable of doing? She brushed away the thought and laid a hand on the saddle. “Let’s get the saddle on her.”

  Remy’s gaze seemed to bore into her while she explained how to set the blanket on Sheba’s back and the correct way to place the saddle. Her skin tingled. Cody cleared her throat and showed him how to secure the cinch strap.

  “You try.” She backed up.

  He mimicked her demonstration and deftly tightened the strap. “Like that?”

  Cody crossed her arms and eyed him. “Have you done this before?”

  “Nope. Spent more time in a boat.”

  Did he just offer that tid-bit of information about himself? What else could she drag out of him? Maybe the secret that seemed to shadow his every move and decision. Remy kept something far darker than her secret guilt and pain.

  “Okay, moving on.” She demonstrated how to put the bridle on then let him do it.

  Now that he had Sheba finished, Cody saddled her horse, Rusty, a spirited sorrel. “Time to mount up.”

  She swung aboard and turned the gelding. Remy mimicked her in one smooth motion. A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. Fast learner. He settled into the seat. The stirrups appeared to be the correct length for him. She’d done well in guessing.

  “Give your knees a squeeze and release her head. She knows what to do after that.”

  Remy did as instructed and Sheba plodded forward. Not to be left behind, Rusty kicked up his heels and crow hopped after the mare. They moved in an easy rhythm around the large indoor ring. Once Remy was comfortable with his balance, Cody moved into a trot. One too many bounces later, she had to teach him how to post, a movement where he rocked in the saddle with the horse’s gait.

  “I’m not going to be able to walk tomorrow,” he said between groans.

  Cody laughed. “It’s good exercise. Probably better than any machine you’d use in the g
ym.”

  “Doubt that.”

  He slowed Sheba to a walk. “I think that’s enough for me.”

  “Oh, we barely got started.” Cody scratched Rusty’s neck. “My boy wants to work.”

  “I’ll just get out of your way, and you do whatever it is you do.” Remy guided Sheba into a corner and arched his back. “Sheba and I’ll watch.”

  “Suit yourself.” Cody laid the reins along Rusty’s neck, smooched and tapped his flanks with her spurs. “Giddy up!”

  She put Rusty through his paces. After they finished, she rode him over to where Remy waited.

  When she grinned at him, he shook his head. “Show off.”

  She patted Rusty’s heated neck. “Not a chance.” She titled her chin up. “Ride around with me while I cool him down.”

  They made a full circuit around the ring in silence except for the creak of the saddles, an occasional snort from a horse, and the scuff of hooves through the dirt. Cody glanced at Remy, found him staring at her, and jerked her attention between Rusty’s ears.

  “I didn’t realize how good you were as a horsewoman.”

  “You’d think champion barrel racer gave it away.”

  He reached over and grasped her hand. His touch sent a jolt up her arm and shocked her chest. Their gazes clashed. She ached for him to kiss her like he had the other night, gentle yet possessive. But she hadn’t been thinking straight. Why had she agreed to this date? Remy was no good for her. She sensed a more dangerous side to him, one that could burn her bad, worse than Austin. If she kept this going, it wouldn’t end well. For either of them.

  “Cody … ”

  Snorting, Rusty side stepped, and they broke contact. Cody made a fist and pressed it into her thigh.

  “Don’t know ’bout you, but I’m starved.” She reined in Rusty next to his halter and dismounted.

  Conversation between them became stilted, centering on her showing him how to care for his mount. They freed the horses in the adjoining paddock and deposited the tack in its room. As they walked back to the house, Cody tried to keep distance between them, but Remy violated the invisible barrier. When they reached the edge of the yard, he caught up her arm and spun her to face him.

  The warmth of his hand penetrated her sleeve. She wanted to pull free, but deep within a voice commanded her to wait.

  “Did I make some social faux pas with you?”

  She glanced at their connection then locked eyes with him. “No.”

  “Then why the cold shoulder all the sudden?”

  Drawing in a deep breath, she exhaled slowly. Cody eased her arm from his grasp and intertwined their fingers. With the pad of his thumb, he rubbed light circles on the back of her hand. Ribbons of pleasure radiated from the spot. Strength and tenderness flowed from him. How could he be both? The concept muddled her head. In Cody’s experience, men were either one or the other. Cowboys tended to hide their sentimental side, worried it would tarnish their tough image.

  Remy tightened his hold and tugged her closer. Placing her free hand on his chest, she stopped the forward momentum of her body. He clasped his hand over hers, trapping it against his chest. His heart beat against her palm, making it tingle. Her own heart matched his pace. She closed her eyes and reveled in the feel.

  In a few short weeks she hadn’t been able to break through his armor and learn who the man was within, while he knew almost everything about her. His refusal cut deep. How could she get close to him, when he maintained the walls with a fervor seeming to be born of fear?

  How do I break through and help him to heal? She met Remy’s gaze. When I need to heal myself first.

  “What are you thinking?” he asked, accent heavy in his voice.

  She pressed her lips together, gathered her wits and entered into the unknown. “Where are we going, Remy?”

  Deep lines furrowed across his forehead. He released his hold on her and took a step back. “Mind being more specific?”

  “I want to know you. The real Remy, not Detective LeBeau. But if you continue to push me away, I don’t know if I can let myself go any further with you.”

  He plowed his fingers through his hair, then jerked his arm to his side and strode a few feet away. He about-faced and returned. “What do you want from me? I can’t change how I feel.”

  Cody crossed her arms and dropped her chin to her chest. He felt something. It was a start. But it wasn’t enough. “This was a mistake.” She turned from him. “I shouldn’t have encouraged you.”

  His hand snagged her arm and jerked her back. Cody met his fiery gaze. “You’re calling this a mistake.”

  “Yes.” She ripped free of his grip. “Trust is a two-way street. And it’s apparent you don’t want to trust anyone, least of all, me.”

  “Trust is a fragile thing. One I can’t afford in my line of work.”

  “Copout answer.”

  “What the hell do you want me to say?”

  She bent forward and glared at him. “How about starting with the truth.”

  A wounded look passed through Remy’s eyes. It was gone before Cody could make sense of it. He straightened and shook his head as if she were a child. “What you’re looking for is nothing but a fairy tale.”

  “I don’t think you believe that. But this still doesn’t solve the issue of us.”

  “Then what do you propose we do?”

  “I haven’t gotten that far.”

  He brushed past her. “When you figure it out, you let me know.” He headed for his ’Vette.

  “Where you going?”

  “Home.” He opened the driver’s side door and paused to look back at her. “It’s apparent you need to think it through. And I’ve got a long day ahead of me tomorrow. Enjoy the food. Good night, Cody.”

  Her jaw slackened as he slid into the car. Cody gritted her teeth and watched the car back out of the drive and disappear down the lane.

  • • •

  Remy parked the ’Vette in his condo’s parking spot and killed the engine. Eyes gritty and sore, he squeezed them shut and peeled them open. He struggled to stay awake on the drive back from Cody’s ranch. Now to add to the exhaustion, his thigh muscles and back ached. He was a couillon for letting Cody talk him into a riding lesson.

  Palming his keys, he draped his jacket over his arm and pried his body out of the car. Upright, he stretched his back, then kicked the door shut and headed for the condo’s back door.

  Was the lot darker than usual?

  His senses prickled, and he scanned the area. One of the parking lot security lights had burned out. Too convenient. Remy slowed his steps and his right hand inched closer to the Ruger’s handle. He hooked his thumb under the leather thong and popped the strap off. Gripping the gun butt, he mounted the back steps. Key ready, he slid it into the lock.

  A change in the atmosphere stayed his hand. Soft footfalls came behind him followed by the sound of adrenaline laced breathing. The jacket dropped to the cement step, and Remy turned as he slipped the gun free of the holster.

  An arm crashed against his gun arm. Pain shot through his hand and fingers, numbing them, and the Ruger wobbled and flipped from his hand. A fist cracked his jaw. Bright spots burst on his sight. Remy stumbled back into the door. The spots cleared in time for him to see the flash of a blade.

  He jerked his body aside, and the knife pinged against the metal door. His attacker thrown off balance, Remy drove his elbow between the attacker’s shoulder blades. He went down, rolled off the steps into the grass and popped up onto his feet. The movement screamed of mixed martial arts training. Remy spit out a curse and got off the steps.

  The attacker came at him, knife slashing the air between them. He was running on anger. And it could be used against him.

  Remy avoided the blade twice before it bit into
his abdomen. Fire ripped through him as liquid warmth trickled down his side. He had a second when the attacker thrust the knife toward his chest. Sidestepping the jab, he deflected the knife hand aside with his right and slammed his left into the guy’s face.

  The knife clattered to the lot pavement. Staggering a few feet, the attacker whipped around and with a roar tackled Remy. He collided with the ground and air whooshed from his lungs. His attacker reared up and sent a fist toward his face. Remy jerked up his arm, blocked the blow, then slammed his elbow into the man’s thigh.

  Howling, the attacker’s weight shifted. Remy bucked and flipped the man off him, then rolled into a crouched position.

  Outmaneuvered and his body screaming, he had to find a way to even the score. He glimpsed the Ruger a yard away.

  The attacker bolted upright and swiped the back of his hand across his mouth. “I’m gonna kill you, LeBeau.” He reached behind him and jerked something out.

  Another knife.

  With a curse, Remy scrambled for his gun. Why didn’t he have his backup on him? He glanced back.

  The attacker lunged, wrapped his arms around Remy’s legs and tackled him to the ground again. Arm outstretched, Remy’s fingers brushed the gun, clawed at it, and dragged the butt in to his hand. His opponent rolled onto the balls of his feet in a low position, flipped the knife blade down, and drew his arm back for the plunge.

  Remy swung the gun level with the attacker’s forehead. “Go ahead. I dare you, chien.”

  The man’s arm stilled.

  A door banged open. “What’s going on out here?”

  The attacker’s head jerked. He growled and looked at Remy. “This is far from over, Detective.” With a grunt, he pushed off and ran across the lot.

  Remy’s gun wavered. He couldn’t get a clear shot. Squeezing his eyes shut, he dropped his hand. He lay on his back, gasping for air and wincing at the needle-like pain coming from the knife cut. The shuffle of feet came up and stopped next to him.